


Your Voice Is Velvet Through A Telephone

by robogalaxy



Series: deadlyroses 🌹 [6]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: (rated M for those specifically), Declarations Of Love, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, Long Shot, Makeouts, Phone Calls & Telephones, Tenderness, i just know its longer than my usual fics for them, no clue if this actually counts as a long shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robogalaxy/pseuds/robogalaxy
Summary: Called from a telephone booth and hearing words in her voice breaking like fragile glass - best to listen to the shattering before going to help put it back together.
Relationships: Olive | Oleana/Rose | Chairman Rose
Series: deadlyroses 🌹 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162211
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Your Voice Is Velvet Through A Telephone

**Author's Note:**

> [this BEAUTIFUL art of this fic was commissioned by @deathofgIitter on twitter / @deathsofglitter on tumblr.... i'm still in awe of how pretty it is. thank you so much again 😭](https://deathsofglitter.tumblr.com/post/634669694672109568/youre-getting-sympathy-from-strangers-while-im/)

Unidentified numbers were usually blocked on sight if Rose didn’t at least recognize the few middle digits. This number that was causing his elegant ringtone to blast across the room was no different from the rest of the lowlifes that frequented his phone, calling to attempt to scam him out of a few thousand Pokedollars for poor, sad, lonesome Toxels living down in the rundown Spikemuth alleyways. Rose knew better than to pick up by this point; besides, the alleyways of Spikemuth were perfect for Toxels! The people living there adored their small, punky, whiny attitudes, and - 

Another loop of the piano music booted him out of his diversion, and he scowled and was ready to lay down a few choice words when it dawned on him that the number was calling his personal cell. Rose opted to keep the number private, obviously, so only a few friends, close employees, and family had the number in their memory. This realization calmed him down and he shook his head ( _pay a bit more attention to what’s happening around you, Antony!_ ) before coughing to clear his throat and answering with his ordinary, cordial demeanor. 

“Hello,” he started before his basic greeting was cut off by the sounds of muffled sniffling. Whoever had called must’ve been trying their best not to let Rose know about their crying, but it sadly was too late for them. He pitied them for a moment, if only for the fact that he did not have the full story yet nor did he know who this person was.

“I wasn’t expecting you to pick up so early,” the caller said with a shaky voice, “I was expecting at least another ring beforehand.” The voice was nasally and the phone cut in and out in the middle of her sentences. Booms of thunder could be faintly heard in the silences between the woman taking deep inhales and letting out deeper exhales. Choppy as the connection was, Rose had no doubts that the voice belonged to Oleana. It was strange of her to be calling him through a phone so faulty with keeping strong connections - the thunder was louder than his own thoughts sometimes. He guessed she was calling from a telephone booth, but why she was doing so evaded him. It wasn’t of any general importance at the moment, he supposed, as the cracks in her voice took priority.

“No, as soon as I realized you called my personal, I was more inclined to pick it up,” he responded. Rose hoped Oleana hadn’t yet discerned the sudden worry that planted itself in the tone of his voice, but at the same time he wished it would be all she noticed. “Are you alright?”

“To be honest, Chairman,” Oleana said, “no. No, I’m not.” The wavering in her words broke her composure again and she inhaled sharply as the wretched sound of the lump in her throat breaking poured over the speaker.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Ollie,” Rose hushed. He couldn’t do much in the way of comforting over the phone - communication came so much easier to him when he could see the person face-to-face - but it couldn’t hurt to lower his voice and employ his love’s nickname, no?

“ _Oleana_ ,” she hissed, combatting Rose’s theory completely, “I’m calling from a phonebooth.” Rose nodded and flashed a quick thumbs up, but Oleana’s annoyed callings of the chairman helped him realize these signals were visible to nobody but him. 

“Phonebooth! Yes, alright, public,” he backtracked, “Oleana.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, the edge of her comments dulled again with Rose’s adjustment to the situation, “yes, thank you, Chairman.” Despite the push to keep things professional, per say, it did nothing to curb the emotion in Oleana’s voice. 

“Why a phonebooth, though? Are you not home?” 

“I was headed home until I had to duck in here,” Oleana explained, excusing herself to cough into the sleeve of her jacket. More thunder echoed behind her before she spoke again, “and it hasn’t been too pretty.”

“Not too pretty?” Rose questioned as his anxieties manifested into him pacing around the floor of his living room, “It sounds pretty terrible to me, having to duck into a booth. Why?”

“Because people don’t give a damn about privacy, I suppose,” Oleana whined. She stood careful in the small interior, her free hand dragging under her eyes to stop tears from leaving marks down her face while her legs stiffened to prevent her from collapsing onto the floor to sob it all away. Rose cocked his head when Oleana mentioned privacy, his footsteps stopping right in front of the coat rack placed next to his front door. _You’re not leaving to check on her, Antony_ , he thought, _isn’t this going to be about privacy? You can’t even open the bloody doors to Wyndon phonebooths anyway. You know you’ve tried._

“Go on,” Rose said with caution. He really didn’t have anything else to say in response (things to do in response, _like going to see her_ , though, flowed out of his mind at ninety to nothing), so he hoped that asking her to continue the story was neutral enough to prevent upsetting her more. 

“He had a camera,” Oleana said, “noticed me walking home. I didn’t catch him. Now, I was already feeling off, already trying to kick something out of my mind-”

“Yes?”

“Something that probably wasn’t even worth the anger, if I’m being honest. Some stupid shit, only worsened by the weather.”

“Yes.”

“And something flashed, assumed it was lightning, and I just lost it for a bit, I guess. Yelled at the rain,” Oleana stopped to catch herself from letting out another cry, “yelled...this is so stupid, excuse me for all of it, and SO late at night, too.”

“Continue,” Rose urged, “please do. No, I need you to. Someone was after you? _Following_ you?” Anger flushed his cheeks and his hands shook with contempt, but what was needed wasn’t anger - it was someone to hang on the line. 

“Maybe,” Oleana guessed, “but I think it was someone from one of the trashy supermarket magazines. They’re always out. Point is,” she said through a long breath, “point is he heard me yell, took a picture of me all angered, and I had to keep myself away before he tried to talk about it to me.”

“Oh, dearest,” Rose said, his pet names slipping out under the pressure of his worry.

“I mean,” Oleana interrupted, the lump in her throat rising with the volume of her voice, “the crazy, stoic bitch breaking on her way back from work? Can you imagine the sales, Chairman?” 

“Oleana, I-”

“Too bad for me to have fucking feelings, huh?” She was practically screaming by now and Rose worried for her wellness, her mental health, her… _her_.

“No, not bad at all-”

“Too bad for me, huh? My angry, crazed face all over the damn convenience stores, storming the bloody internet, making me out to be the…” Oleana stopped during the rant, the sound of her hand rising to cover her mouth audible over the unreliable connection. A muffled whimper escaped as the sounds of almost uncontrollable sobbing muted it completely, but Rose focused himself on every word Oleana spoke, and by extension, every pained sob. 

“Ollie,” he pleaded, “Ollie. Ollie?”

“I’m so _sorry_ , Antony, really,” she choked out, “just forget it. Leave it be. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Yes you should’ve, love,” Rose said, “you can’t keep this sort of thing bottled up. Especially something like...like _this_ , love. This is _severe!_ ”

“It’s no use bawling over the phone anymore, is it,” Oleana mumbled in self-deprecation, “I’m going home now, away from whatever this was. Please forgive me.”

“All was forgiven, nothing’s been wronged. Oleana, darling, please stay on the line a bit longer. Let me talk to you.”

“I’m going home, Antony. Goodbye.”

“Okay,” Rose conceded, “but it can’t be ignored forever. I’m so worried now.” He paced towards his coat on purpose now, grabbing it off its hook so he’d be protected from the rain when he walked outside.

“Home, Antony,” she repeated with a small edge returning, “home.”

“Alright. Stay safe, will you? I love you.” 

His only response was the click of the phone being hung up before the piano melody echoed across his room again. Rose rocketed to accept the call and rushed the phone to his ear without checking the number. 

“Hello?” 

“You have my key. Feel free to use it.”

* * *

Solid scarlet only moments ago, the handkerchief wrinkled in Oleana's hands was now splotched with tears, eyeliner smudges, and it may have been used to wipe her nose clean a couple of times. She shivered with the chill that usually follows a long, worn out cry, and she held herself in crossed arms, hoping the warmth of her own embrace would ease her. Rose walked back into her living room after chatting with some law officials, his face weary with the weight of having to involve them at all. Oleana’s safety mattered to him immensely and though it ached to go through the legal motions, anything that ensured their wellbeing and privacy would benefit them in the long run. Rose sat down beside Oleana on her loveseat, his eyes focused solely on the way his love’s face contorted into such sympathy. He longed to kiss it and hold it firmly in hands that vowed to keep her protected, but it was best to listen to the shattering of the mirror before helping put it back together.

"I don't want to hear any apologies from you, Ollie," Rose reiterated while he stroked through Oleana's hair. He tried his best to break the tangles without much pain on Oleana's end and gazed at her with eyes that wanted to cry alongside her; he couldn't though, as Rose knew the kind of person Oleana needed when her feelings ran amok and left her in the dark - that person didn't need to cry (or at least not in front of her), "Being sad or scared doesn't and never WILL warrant an apology, love."

"It does if it's seen by the public, Antony!" Oleana griped, "I'm stoic and well-mannered to them. Heartless bitch, if we wanna go with what they pen on their worst days. If they see me upset, hell, see me with emotion in any sort of way, the gossip mags could pin the blame on you. Rose is working her too hard because he’s taking advantage of her lack of feelings! You know they would, if given the chance." She cleared her throat and winced slightly as Rose untangled a rough knot near the bottom of her hair, arms still snug around herself. Rose backed off and opted to switch his focus to soothingly rub his thumb across the highlight of her cheekbone. Oleana, much like the way Rose's small Cufant used to ease into him caressing at its ears, scooted closer to Rose and seemed to dissolve slowly into the touch's bliss. 

"They would, yes," Rose admitted after a small, frustrated groan, "an attempt to villainize me for your sadness wouldn't be beneath them.” He shuddered at the thought of it, but shook it off as not to concern Oleana with his own bout of anxieties, “But you know I’ve spoken with who needed to be spoken to. You heard me, saw me. We won’t have ourselves hurt by those heartless few, darling." Oleana's face, red with its broken blood vessels and gaunt from sheer exhaustion, still felt as soft as her hands did in the common occasions they accidentally grazed his own when they reached for the ringing office phones in unison. 

"You understand," she whimpered, "you do."

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?" Rose soothed with his hand leaving Oleana's face and motioning it for her to lay her heavy head down onto his shoulder. She sniffled into the red fabric again and snuggled herself in Rose's arm. It held her close and soon, her own arms unwrapped themselves and instead hugged onto Rose. 

"Why wouldn't you," Oleana trailed off with a quick smile lighting up her face for a brief second or two before disappearing under the gloom again, "why wouldn't you. You'd never _not_ understand, that's what. Sorry, Antony."

"Shhh, I said it once and I'll say it again," he began, "you don't have to apologize for anything."

"Right," she mumbled, trying to bring herself closer into the warmth of Rose's embrace, "right."

Silence covered the air of the high-rise, Oleana's lamps dimmed so the shine of her decorations wouldn't blind her like the sudden rush of paranoia had in the hours beforehand. They sat on the loveseat in this quiet place, afraid another word would somehow lead to a conversation about the state of their image that neither of them were ready for at the time.

"Ollie," Rose said with conviction, a tone that knew keeping quiet would only leave them to wallow in negative thoughts, "is there anything you need? Water, a blanket? You're still shivering." Rose began to stand up from off the seat to walk into whatever room housed what Oleana wanted, but her strong hug onto him prevented him from even moving in place. She gently rubbed her cheek against his jacket and seemed to only increase the pull of her grasp.

"Stay with me," she muttered, "anything else can wait." Rose nodded ( _she can see me this time, thankfully_ ) and gently nudged at Oleana so she’d lift her head up for a second. 

“Mhmm,” she mumbled, “what is it?”

“Just wanted to…” he mumbled, trailing off as he felt his heart warm up, “just wanted to tell you that you’re nothing less of a marvel. Emotions and all. Anyone other than you, Oleana…”

“Yes?”

“Anyone other than you couldn’t be loved as much as I love you, Oleana,” he said with sincerity. The faint glow of the dimmed lights across his face probably added more of a romantic edge than he intended, but it wasn’t something he was going to complain about. Oleana didn’t respond with a declaration of her own (she was drained, of course) but did grab onto Rose’s face and push it to hers. Her closed eyes and the shadow of her eyelashes underneath the dark of her eyes didn’t do anything to make Rose feel more attracted nor did he think of doing anything more than this tonight, but he wasn’t going to reject a kiss from her - not in this moment, not when she initiated it. Rose hugged onto her tight as she opened her mouth slightly to allow Rose in, his hands coursing through the tangles in her hair. Thunder boomed outside and lightning flashed onto their bodies as they shifted to lying down on the loveseat, faces locked with soft smiles while they let their minds wander towards only thoughts of each other’s company. The scarlet of the handkerchief drifted away, falling in between cushions as tensions grew higher and their earlier talks devolving into soft sounds that signaled a cut wire. To break up in this sort of conversation would ruin everything and their emotions (among other characteristics) were too sensitive to be clouded by the flashes of cameras. This was privacy and this was the time away from the scammers, the gossip, the life that demanded their full attention by the second. This was the time to melt into embraces and soon into each other’s skin, only whispering their affections while they bared both their bodies and their worries only to have them cut out in the midst of the rainstorm. 

* * *

“Antony,” Oleana muttered, her head against his chest as the light in her room blacked out with his click of a switch on the wall beside him, “even if it wasn’t me who called, would you still have picked up?”

“I didn’t know the caller when it _was_ you who called,” Rose replied, “so I suppose I would’ve no matter who it was.”

“Antony?” Oleana muttered while adjusting herself under the blankets, “Another question.”

“Yes?”

“Are you glad it was me on the other line?”

“Not with you so sad, no,” he replied, “but I suppose I was glad to know you wanted to call me in such a time.”

“Right...Antony?”

“Oleana?” She laid on him in silence for a second before reaching over his chest to grab his hand with hers. Her tight grip let Rose know she wasn’t going anywhere, the three squeezes of her hand let him know she loved him, and the way he looked at her let her know that it wasn’t an issue to show emotions - it would be an issue if they ever quit feeling them so strongly for one another. 

“Oleana?” Rose asked, mirroring his lover’s past behavior.

“Yeah?” 

“You can keep the handkerchief,” he smiled, “if you need it again. If you need anything, really, you can have it.” 

“Then can I have you be quiet for a few hours?” Oleana teased, “the traffic to the tower will be awful with the weather tomorrow morning.

“Yes, yes,” Rose grinned as he rested the two of them against the soft of the bed, “of course I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> more making out in the rain! we stan.
> 
> title from halsey's "Finally//beautiful stranger." will probably be my last olearose for a bit due to school starting up again ... i will return to the tag, of course, when i can. i had a LOT of fun writing this, though i was also sort of depressed, haha. my series of oneshots for oleana/rose is always here for you to enjoy while you wait on my next piece. <3
> 
> thank you SO much for reading! feel free to leave kudos, comments, and bookmarks <3


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